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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396704">Destroy Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/pseuds/Drarry_Quite_Contrary'>Drarry_Quite_Contrary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fanatical Fam Discord Humpday Headcanon [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Enemies to Lovers, Gay Marcus Flint, Gay Oliver Wood, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch Locker Rooms, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Pining Oliver Wood, Podfic Available, Quidditch, Secret Crush, Teasing, do not post on other sites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:40:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/pseuds/Drarry_Quite_Contrary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>This was their year. Gryffindor would win the Quidditch Cup. If only Oliver could just get Marcus Flint out of his head.</b>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fanatical Fam Discord Humpday Headcanon [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Destroy Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/purelygreen/gifts">purelygreen</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      
<p></p><div>
  <p>
      <strong><span class="u">*All characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling*</span></strong>
   </p>
</div>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>

<p></p><div>
  <p>“I don’t believe it!” Oliver hissed in outrage. “I booked the field for today! We’ll see about this!”</p>
  <p>Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted.</p>
  <p>“Flint!” Oliver bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. “This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!”</p>
  <p>Marcus Flint had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, “Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.”</p>
  <p>“But I booked the field!” said Oliver, spitting with rage. “I booked it!”</p>
  <p>“Ah,” said Flint with an amused smirk. “But I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape.”</p>
  <p>Oliver snatched the piece of parchment from his hands, furiously.</p>
  <p>
    <em>‘I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.’</em>
  </p>
  <p>“You’ve got a new Seeker?” said Oliver, quirking a curious eyebrow. “Where?”</p>
  <p>A small blond boy stepped out from the crowd of Slytherins. Oliver grimaced at the sight of Draco’s smug expression. <em>Arrogant little git, isn’t he?</em> Oliver snorted to himself. <em>He’ll have nothing on Potter.</em></p>
  <p>“Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?” said Fred with disgust.</p>
  <p>“Funny you should mention Draco’s father,” said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. “Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to the Slytherin team.”</p>
  <p>Oliver’s smirk immediately disappeared. Gaping in horror, he took in the seven Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones held by each team member.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Shit. Shit, shit, SHIT!</em>
  </p>
  <p>“Very latest model. Only came out last month,” said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. “I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps”—he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives—“sweeps the board with them.”</p>
  <p>None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.</p>
  <p>“Oh, look,” said Flint. “A field invasion.”</p>
  <p>A couple of second year Gryffindors—Potter’s friends, no doubt—were making their way across the field toward them.</p>
  <p>“Flint!” Embarrassed and unwilling to witness more of this public spectacle, he handed his broom to Fred as he walked up to the Slytherin Captain, grabbing his <em>ridiculously</em> muscular arm. “A <em>word?”</em></p>
  <p>Flint shrugged him off but followed him several paces off the field. Oliver rounded on him, puffing up his chest in what he hoped was at least a bit intimidating — though he seriously doubted it. Oliver was tall himself but dwarfed in comparison to the hulking, fit as fuck, Marcus Fucking Flint. Though his expression was hard, Oliver could read a glint of amusement in his gaze. Even in silence, he was mocking him. <em>The prat!</em></p>
  <p>“Is it your life’s ambition to make my life living hell?!” Oliver spat. “You knew we had the pitch today! What is <em>one fucking day?</em> Bloody fuck, Flint!”</p>
  <p>Flint just crossed his arms and let out a forced laugh. “So fucking full of yourself. As if I would waste my time thinking about <em>you,</em> Wood. You’ve got no chance this year.”</p>
  <p>Oliver ground his teeth, hissing. “Oh, and you think this...Malfoy...will be any match for Potter? If you need to train him so badly, sounds to me like he’s absolute shit!”</p>
  <p>Flint grabbed the front of Oliver’s robes, pulling him in, their noses nearly touching. Oliver’s eyes widened in shock, a gasp escaping from his lips.</p>
  <p>“Listen here, you wanker. I’ll do whatever it takes to destroy you this year,” he sneered. “And don’t you talk to me about Potter. He’s the reason you lost last year, isn’t he? Sounds to me like he’s your weakest link.”</p>
  <p>He shoved Oliver away, who stumbled, falling to the ground. Flint approached Oliver as he tried to stand, twisted in his quidditch robes.</p>
  <p>With a sinister smile, Flint whispered, “Well, don’t you look good on your knees.”</p>
  <p>The Slytherin turned around, strutting across the pitch toward his team. He did not look back.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <hr/>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Oliver, clearly disgruntled, dismissed his team, noting that he will be in contact regarding their updated practice schedule. Harry was already gone due to some sort of kerfuffle with the Malfoy boy. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were quick to resign to the castle, leaving Fred and George eyeing Oliver curiously.</p>
  <p>“You okay, mate?” asked Fred.</p>
  <p>“I’m fine. Just. Just frustrated.” <em>More than you know…</em></p>
  <p>“Your cheeks are mad red there, Oliver,” said George. “You sure you’re alright?”</p>
  <p>“Just hot is all. I’m going to...take a shower.”</p>
  <p>The twins glanced at each other. “But we didn’t even do anything!” chuckled Fred.</p>
  <p>“Right, just. Need to cool down. I’ll be seeing you then.”</p>
  <p>Turning abruptly from the pair, he could feel the heat in his cheeks flaring. In the Gryffindor locker room, he locked up his broom and stripped off his leathers. To his mortification, he found he was, in fact, hard as fuck. Covering himself with a towel, he dashed for the showers, turning on the water and stepping inside. He yelped as the freezing water cascaded his body but soon reached the ideal temperature.</p>
  <p><em>What the bloody fuck was that?</em> What did Flint mean by <em>‘don’t you look good on your knees.’</em> He can’t of meant. No. Surely not. He just looked at Oliver like scum, not as an equal. Someone below him. As he said, not worth a thought.</p>
  <p>But fuck, it was hot. Oliver steadied himself by placing a hand on the wall, grasping his throbbing erection with the other, pumping furiously.</p>
  <p>Fucking, Flint with his smug fucking face and his fit fucking body. Oliver couldn’t stand the sight of him. And yet, he couldn’t stop <em>thinking</em> about him. What was he hiding under those quidditch leathers? By the state of his arm, he had to be pure muscle. Those strong arms that could pick Oliver up like a sack of gurdyroots and…</p>
  <p>Oliver bit down hard on his lip to muffle a moan as he came, splattering cum on the shower wall.</p>
  <p>He sputtered water from his mouth as he panted, trying to catch his breath. It was out of his system. He could move on. Forget all about it. He hated Flint. Hated him.</p>
  <p>Fuck, he wanted him.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <hr/>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Oliver couldn’t concentrate, McGonagall’s voice tuning in and out. Flint sat a row over and a couple of seats up. How in Merlin’s name could he <em>not</em> look at him? Try as he might, he found it to be utterly impossible.</p>
  <p>Lost in a dreamy daze, Oliver almost didn’t register that Flint had turned in his head, staring at him. Oliver gasped, quickly turning his gaze to his open Transfiguration textbook, clearly not on the correct page. He lifted his gaze slightly to see Marcus smirking at him. Oliver looked away, his cheeks burning. <em>Shit.</em> He needed to get a grip on himself. This was getting out of control. Stealing one more glance, Flint had turned away, but a smile clearly remained.</p>
  <p>Oliver managed to make it through the remainder of class without a single glance at Flint, but that didn’t mean he was out of his mind.</p>
  <p>“Wood? Mr. Wood!”</p>
  <p>Oliver jumped, realizing he was left alone in the classroom with a very stern-looking Professor McGonagall.</p>
  <p>“Apologies if my lesson was less compelling than whatever dreamland you appear to have been visiting.”</p>
  <p>“N-no, Professor. I was just...I’m just feeling a bit unwell, is all.”</p>
  <p>“Then be sure to head to the Hospital Wing. I can’t have my quidditch Captain under the weather! I am counting on you, Wood,” she said sternly with a sharp stare.</p>
  <p>“Yes, of course. I’ll head there now.” He stood up, stuffing his book and parchment into his bag. “Sorry, Professor.”</p>
  <p>After a quick nod, he headed for the door. He thought he should at least make an appearance at the Hospital Wing, in case McGonagall inquired with Madam Pomfrey. He strode quickly down the corridor before turning the corner.</p>
  <p>“Ello, Wood.”</p>
  <p>Oliver jumped, gasping in shock, nearly tossing his bag, but managed to hold fast.</p>
  <p>“F-Flint!” he stuttered, heart racing. “What...are you…”</p>
  <p>The boy approached him slowly, causing Oliver to take a few steps back before pressing flush against the wall. <em>Shit.</em></p>
  <p>Flint placed a hand against the wall above his left shoulder, leaning forward slightly. “Like what you see?”</p>
  <p>Oliver gulped, dredging up as much courage as he could muster. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”</p>
  <p>Flint chuckled. “I saw you. Staring at me,” he said softly, a small smile on his lips. His gaze remained hard and inquisitive. “Didn’t realize so few words could affect you this way. If I’d known, I’d have said something ages ago.”</p>
  <p><em>Fuck.</em> It had been <em>exactly</em> what he’d meant...</p>
  <p>“Oliver Wood. More like <em>I Love a Wood,”</em> he laughed, eyes flashing with…mischief...or was it desire? Either way, Oliver was terrified. “Who knew you were such a pervert?”</p>
  <p>“Excuse me?!” shot Oliver. “You were the one who…” his words trailed off, “...started it.”</p>
  <p>Flint’s smile broadened. “Oh, I think this started well before that.” He leaned forward to whisper in Oliver’s ear, “The question is...who’s going to finish it?”</p>
  <p>Oliver’s knees nearly buckled under him. He couldn’t breathe.</p>
  <p>Flint took a step back, his laugh echoing through the corridor. As if they had just finished a cordial discussion about Transfiguration practice and theory, Flint gave him a two-finger wave over his shoulder as he retreated down the hallway. “Later, Wood.”</p>
  <p>It took nearly 15 minutes for Oliver to peel himself from the wall.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <hr/>
  <p> </p>
  <p>As Flint had said, he would do <em>anything</em> to destroy Gryffindor’s chances for the Cup. Surely this was all a sick joke, to throw him off his guard. He was already succeeding, wasn’t he? Barely making it through classes. Nearly having his head smashed in by no less than four rogue Bludgers.</p>
  <p>“Oliver, what the fuck?” yelled George, knocking number five away. “Where’s your head?!”</p>
  <p>He wouldn’t let Flint, of all people, get to him. Fuck Flint. Fuck his feelings. Fuck his...well. He can wank it out later, anyway.</p>
  <p>“Sorry, George!” giving his head a shake, clearing it of all Flint-related thoughts. “Alright! Run it again, everyone!”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <hr/>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Finally, Flint free, Oliver succeeded in running one of the best practices they’d had that year. Frankly, that wasn’t hard, per recent events, but it was damn good regardless. Alicia damn near got past him on multiple occasions. Katie having succeeded thrice. Harry had managed to catch the Snitch thirteen times within their two-hour practice. Obviously, Fred and George were on top form due to Oliver’s fogginess.</p>
  <p>Sighing deeply as the hot water washed over him, he was feeling fantastic. This would be their year. As long as Harry stays well away from chambers and snakes and what have you. They had a bloody chance to take it all.</p>
  <p>“Oi! Oliver! You near done? Want us to wait for you?” called Fred.</p>
  <p>“Go on! I’ll still be a bit yet!”</p>
  <p>“Make sure to scrub that muddy brain of yours real good, Oli!” chuckled George.</p>
  <p>“Brain? What brain?” snickered Fred. “Don’t know why we bothered. There was nothing in there worth saving!”</p>
  <p>“Oh, shut up, you wankers!”</p>
  <p>Fits of laughter ensued. “Later, Oliver!” they said in unison.</p>
  <p>He heard the door close behind them. Relishing in the quiet, Oliver closed his eyes, hot</p>
  <p>water cascading across his aching muscles.</p>
  <p>He stiffened at the sound of the door opening. The sound of footsteps grew louder as Oliver sensed a form approaching.</p>
  <p>“That you, Fred? George?”</p>
  <p>No one answered. He’d never been more thankful for the shower’s disillusionment charms. The water turned on in the adjacent stall.</p>
  <p>“Seriously, who’s there?”</p>
  <p>“How’d practice go?” said a deep voice Oliver knew so intimately of late.</p>
  <p>“Fli…fine. Brilliant even.”</p>
  <p>
    <em>What are you doing? Just ignore him.</em>
  </p>
  <p>“You looked a bit...distracted.”</p>
  <p>
    <em>He was watching?!</em>
  </p>
  <p>“That’s none of your concern.”</p>
  <p>“Alright then,” Flint laughed.</p>
  <p>He heard Flint’s robes drop to the floor as he entered the neighboring stall. Oliver had long since washed himself; now he was stuck there for who knows how long in which Flint took a fucking shower in the <em>wrong</em> locker room.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Why, me?</em>
  </p>
  <p>The longer he stood there, the more aware he became that a naked Marcus Flint was mere feet from him. Already well on his way to a full erection, he heard what could only be described as <em>squelching</em> noises. Oh, fuck. Was Flint <em>wanking?!</em></p>
  <p>Now he was moaning, softly at first, but as Flint’s speed increased, they grew progressively louder and <em>lewder.</em></p>
  <p>“The <em>fuck</em> are you doing, Flint?!”</p>
  <p>Flint did not stop but let out a breathy laugh. “Go on, Wood. You know you want to.”</p>
  <p>Oliver’s cock throbbed at those words. Flint wanted him to wank...<em>with</em> him. He had to bite his fist to quiet his own gasping moans as he took himself in hand. He was surely mad, but he didn’t fucking care.</p>
  <p>“Come on, Oliver. Let me hear you.”</p>
  <p>At the sound of his given name, Oliver nearly came on the spot. Flint had <em>never</em> called him Oliver. He released a shattering moan as his climax built. Flint. Naked. Wanking. Right. There. <em>FUCK!</em></p>
  <p>“That’s it, come for me, Oli.”</p>
  <p>His climax rattled through him like a freight train. Oliver nearly choked on the water as he gasped for air, milking himself of every drop.</p>
  <p>He heard Flint growl as his own orgasm hit, “Oliiiiveeer!”</p>
  <p>Placing both hands on the wall for support, Oliver stared wide-eyed at the floor, in complete shock at what he’d just witnessed. He’d said his name. While he came.</p>
  <p>“Well,” said Flint casually, turning off the water. “That was fun.”</p>
  <p>Oliver heard him step out of the shower, cast a quick drying charm, and pull on his robes.</p>
  <p>“Until next time, then.”</p>
  <p>He heard the footsteps fade, the locker room door open, then close.</p>
  <p>Oliver was positively wrecked.</p>
  <p><em>‘I’ll do whatever it takes to destroy you this year.’</em> he’d said.</p>
  <p><em>To destroy...</em>me.</p>
  <p>Oliver collapsed to the floor. So few words, so few actions, and Oliver was damn near putty in Flint’s hands. He was right. This all had started long before Flint opened his mouth. The fury, jealousy, frustration. It all lead to one thing. Against all matters of sanity, rationality, and reasoning, it was abundantly clear.</p>
  <p>Oliver loved him. And he’d been thoroughly destroyed.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
<p></p><div>
  <p>
      <strong>Thank you for reading!</strong>
   </p>
  <p>
      <strong>Be sure to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/pseuds/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/">SUBSCRIBE</a> for more Drarry / Snarry goodness!</strong>   
   </p>
  <p>
      <strong><a href="https://drarry-quite-contrary.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> | <a href="https://instagram.com/drarry_quite_contrary/">Instagram</a></strong>
   </p>
  <p>
      <strong>Check out our new podcast!</strong><br/>
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   </p>
</div></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145975">Destroy Me [Podfic]</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/pseuds/Drarry_Quite_Contrary">Drarry_Quite_Contrary</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheelsmcgraw/pseuds/wheelsmcgraw">wheelsmcgraw</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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